


Mahasamadhi

by BigBoyParty



Category: Stray Kids (Band)
Genre: Anal Sex, Blindfolds, Bugs & Insects, Burns, Chan evil, Cults, Gardens & Gardening, Group Sex, Gun Violence, Horror, Humiliation, Jisung is my poor sweet boy, M/M, Manipulation, Murder-Suicide, Nightmares, Non-Explicit Animal Sacrifice, Oral Sex, Psychological Horror, Psychological Trauma, Rape Aftermath, Rape/Non-con Elements, Religion, i love changbin
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-21
Updated: 2020-05-21
Packaged: 2021-03-03 01:00:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,596
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24306313
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BigBoyParty/pseuds/BigBoyParty
Summary: "There used to be a lot of them here. At one point, there were more than the house could really hold. They’d fill the room from wall to wall during evening meditation.  They were so perfect back then. They got so close."---Ever since Chan brought Jisung into the divine light, he has been utterly devoted to his faith. Even after all the other members have left, even after years of manipulation and trauma, even when their home becomes bug-infested and decaying. When Changbin returns for a visit, Jisung is sure it's a sign their religious movement will come back in full force, but things only seem to get more confusing.
Relationships: Bang Chan/Han Jisung | Han, Han Jisung | Han/Seo Changbin
Comments: 23
Kudos: 134





	Mahasamadhi

**Author's Note:**

> Hey guys! It should all be tagged, but please be aware that this fic contains a lot of extremely dark and intense content. There are frequent scenes of sexual abuse, with varying degrees of explicitness, and moments of violence and manipulation throughout. I am in no way endorsing these actions: it made me uncomfortable writing it, and it should be an uncomfortable read. No hard feelings if it's not your taste, you are welcome to give it a shot and stop reading at any point. Follow your heart.
> 
> A note on the title: Mahasamadhi is a term from Hindu and Yogic traditions referring to the soul of a spiritual master consciously and permanently leaving the body, releasing them from the cycle of death and rebirth. This term has also been appropriated by several new age and western spiritualist movements, often as an explanation for the physical death of a religious leader.

_ Bugs: _

Jisung couldn’t remember what it was like living in a house without bugs. He could see them everywhere, now. Baby beetles dropped down from the ceiling to squirm across the floor. Bed bugs scattered out when he changed the sheets, little black circles that flung into the air like confetti but never fell like it. Never moved quite right.

The house centipedes were the worst. They were fast, usually hid up in the ceiling where they were easy enough to ignore, but sometimes they would crawl onto Jisung’s body and just stay there. Where he now lay on the bed, he could see one on the floor. Something on his leg was crawling too, itching, but he didn’t want to see what it was. It was better not to look. Instead, he watched the floor. 16 unnaturally long legs. The centipede pierced into the abdomen of a beetle, whipping its body around snakelike to clutch the bugs with all of its limbs and pierce. It was brutal.

“Hey Jisung.” A soft voice, and a heavy landing on the bed. A hand flicking whatever was on Jisung’s leg away and pulling the rest of him close, “Just relaxing?”

“Sorry,” Jisung murmured. The beetle stilled under the house centipede. No more kicking limbs. The larger insect maneuvered it around, ran its mouth down the back of the beetle’s body, as if splitting it, and began to eat. “Meditating.” Jisung spoke so softly he wondered if any sound came out at all. The man behind him kissed the back of his neck, wrapped arms around his waist.

“We should get you in the bath today. It’s been a while.”

Jisung just nodded, watching the bugs. It had been a while. Jisung didn’t know how long. Maybe bathing would soothe his itchy skin.

“Come on, Sungie.” Strong hands turned him around and picked him up, and then Chan was flooding his vision, holding Jisung close to his chest.

_ Chan: _

Chan still dyed his hair. It was too long, now. He’d probably want Jisung to cut it soon, get rid of those dead ends. He liked it bleached. It matched his white clothes, and when the light was on him it reflected everything back like the sun.

Chan had a direct line to the divine light. Spirits, or gods. Jisung liked that they seemed like aliens. He liked when they spoke through Chan, drove his divine hands over Jisung’s figure and taught him to worship. Burnt sage and flowers. Ash on the bridge of his nose and blood down the back of his neck. Chan would make Jisung up like a totem to the divine, and then they would take turns with him. Feeding him. Chan first, then all the other men would push their cocks into Jisung’s throat and cum over his lips. Because exchanging energy like this was a part of their divine journey, and Jisung was so close to his enlightenment.

The bath water was warm. Jisung lowered himself into it gently, letting his bug bites dip below the surface. It was soothing. Chan reached in and picked off a few bed bugs that clung to Jisung’s thighs. “I’ll wash those sheets today,” Chan muttered, supporting Jisung’s lower spine as he leaned back until his neck rested against the edge of the tub. Jisung watched the water lap up against a brown stain on the bathtub’s wall, and Chan washed him.

Chan started washing him like this years ago, when he saw the divine light in Jisung. “You look just like them,” Chan would say, “I can see the divine mothers in you.” So Jisung became his trophy, always attached to Chan at the hip. He still worked in the garden, like everyone did, and back when they sold jewelry he would weave bracelets until his fingers bled, but now he was special too. He didn’t sleep in the bunks like the rest of them, he slept in Chan’s room. On red silky sheets, so Chan could roll over in the middle of the night and squeeze his throat. Pin him to the bed and fuck him speaking in tongues.

Chan used to whisper devotions while he was washing Jisung, little prayers as he traced a soapy cloth over Jisung’s feet and ankles, words in languages Jisung couldn’t understand. Chan would rinse out Jisung’s hair and hum the tones of the universe, very divinity coursing through his voice. Lately, baths were much quieter, but Chan still scrubbed him meticulously. Almost reverently.

“Have you gotten any messages lately?” Jisung asked, sitting forward so Chan could run the washcloth over his back in little soapy circles.

“Of course. The line’s always open.” Chan scooped up some water and rinsed off Jisung’s skin, “In fact, they gave me a message this morning during my meditation.” He maneuvered Jisung’s body slightly onto its side, so he could scrub too hard between his legs with the washcloth, “They said that our garden will be fruitful this year, and we may even see some family members returning, as long as we stay faithful. You’ve been faithful, haven’t you Jisung?” Chan ran one soapy finger between Jisung’s legs and forced it into his asshole. The first time Chan did this, Jisung had been so shocked he almost screamed, but it was routine now. He had to be clean. He was the image of the divine.

“Yes, I have been.” A cockroach scuttled across the floor behind Chan. “I’m sorry Chan, I’ll be better.”

“It’s okay Jisung.” He was maneuvered back onto his butt, lifted up a little so Chan could wash his hair. “The universe has so much love for you. Never forget that.”

“I won’t.” Jisung scrunched up his eyes to keep the soapy water from running into them. “Do you really think they’ll come back?”

“Of course they will. They’re family.”

_ Family: _

There used to be a lot of them here. At one point, there were more than the house could really hold. They’d fill the room from wall to wall during evening meditation. They pulled in loads of produce to sell at the farmers market, and made the most beautiful clothing and jewelry to sell in their shop. They were so perfect back then. They got so close.

Chan would pull in new members when he went to give sermons in town, or they’d bring in loyal customers from their little shop. People got there by curiosity, mostly. Lots of them skeptics, but once they heard Chan speak divinity they were converted just like that. It used to be so easy to make people see the truth.

Jisung was always the closest to enlightenment, after Chan, but others became important too. Everyone had a little god in them, played their role, but when people stood out they were recognized for it. They started wearing white. They were family. Seungmin, who had once been a law student, was like the logistical head of the group. He was so smart. He arranged all the NDA’s so people couldn’t spread lies about the family. He managed the mortgage and the business. He was always the first after Chan to perform rites with Jisung’s body, and sometimes Chan would spend time in long conversations with him while the others were out sewing, or working in the garden.

Hyunjin and Felix were the artists. They designed the crafts they would sell in the shop. Small stuff, really, not so hard to make, but beautiful. And “handcrafted.” Changbin took charge of the cooking when they all had family dinners, and then there was Minho.

Minho never fully believed. He was blasphemous all the time, and yet he stayed, and Chan loved him. “It’s good to have a little of the skeptic in you,” Chan explained, always smiling, “The divine speaks in many tongues. It’s important for people to see that. And to see the unfaithful be punished.”

And Minho was punished. He was punished constantly. Chan would paint his face up ugly, so his eyebrows came together in one big black arch of ash and red marks hollowed out his eyes and cheeks, and he would punish him in front of everyone. Jisung remembers Minho kneeling in front of the congregation, everyone hurling small stones and raw eggs at him so his skin bloomed with bruises and yolk. Jisung remembers Chan taking Minho in front of everyone, calling brothers up onstage to spit on his face as Chan fucked him until he bled. Jisung remembers Chan holding Minho down for him, everyone all done up in flowers, Jisung’s dick in Minho’s ass the triumph of good over evil. Faith over skepticism.

For some time, Minho was almost as close to Chan as Jisung was. He’d even sleep in the same bed with them. Chan would hold Minho gently and whisper sweet things in his ear, try and get him to stop shaking in the middle of the night. Jisung even used to be jealous of him, some skeptic sleeping in bed with a god.

Minho was the first to go. Then slowly, everyone else deserted them. Skeptics. Jisung knew they would all get what they deserved, and he was terrified of this.

_ Knowledge: _

Jisung was pretty good with plants. He hadn’t been when he first turned up here, with his ears double pierced and his soundcloud rap career off to a shitty start. He had been hopeless then, working a job he hated only to scrape up barely enough money to pay his rent. Chan gave him everything, and he learned to be good with plants.

The tomatoes looked good this year. Another gift from the divine. Jisung crawled among them, shorter than the plants when he was on his hands and knees weeding. Through the leaves, Jisung could see Chan inside. He left the door open and sat cross-legged on the floor, meditating. Chan was speaking in tongues again. He must have been communing with the divine. 

The phone rang.

It never rang. They only had one, a landline in the kitchen, and no one ever called. Seungmin always made sure their number was a secret, and Chan hadn’t given it out to anyone but the members. There was just no need for it.

It rang again.

Jisung watched Chan’s hands clench in his lap. It was distracting him. Immediately, Jisung dropped his gardening tools and ran inside.

“Hello?” His voice was shaky. He wasn’t used to speaking on the phone.

“Jisung?” A house centipede emerged from the ceiling vent and skittered down the wall, seeking out some prey. Jisung recognized the voice. “Are you there? It’s Changbin.”

“Y-yeah. It’s Jisung.” What was Changbin calling for? Was he coming back?

“Hey! I’m so glad I could get ahold of you. You’re still living with Chan, huh?”

“Of course I am.” Jisung heard Chan standing up in the other room. He watched the centipede lock its limbs onto a cockroach. A challenging foe.

“Right, haha, yeah. Of course. Have you been, like, okay? I’ve just been thinking about you lately and you know, just thought I should check in.”

“Absolutely. Why wouldn’t I be?” Chan entered from the other room, all frizzy hair and loose white clothes. He wrapped his arms around Jisung’s waist and kissed the back of his neck.

“Ah, I don't know. Hey, if you ever need to get out of there, even for just like a day, my house is always open okay? I can even pick you up. Here, lemme give you my phone number-” Chan’s teeth caught the delicate skin behind Jisung’s ear and he shivered.

“I don't think I’ll need that.” Chan’s hands wandered around Jisung’s hips, squeezing his crotch and rubbing up against his ass. Jisung could feel Chan’s breath on the back of his neck.

“Are you sure? You don't have to tell Chan about it or anything. Listen, I was gonna drop by tomorrow for a visit anyway are you sure-”

“Hang up the phone,” Chan whispered in Jisung’s ear, following his words with a soft kiss on Jisung’s jaw, his hands pushing down Jisung’s pants.

“Sorry.” Jisung had to restrain a whimper when Chan shoved him forward against the wall, pressing one spit-coated finger against Jisung’s hole, “I gotta go.” And he hung up. On the kitchen floor, the house centipede ripped the cockroach’s head clean off.

“Changbin, right?” Chan murmured, laughing softly as he shoved another finger inside of Jisung, too dry. “He’s coming for dinner tomorrow.”

Chan pushed Jisung towards the counter and bent him forwards over it, brushing his arm over the surface to scare away some large black flies. His fingers were back inside of Jisung’s ass already, forcing him open, spitting inside of him. Chan pulled Jisung’s shirt off so he could suck a bruise into the side of his neck and onto his shoulder. Jisung’s toes slid on the tile floor, and he felt a line of ants squish underneath him. Chan spread his legs out further, spat on him and ran his cock over Jisung’s hole.

“Chan...” Jisung murmured, “Shouldn’t we do the rites?” Chan paused, almost imperceptibly, like he had been caught.

“What did I say this morning, Jisung,” Chan growled. He kissed all over Jisungs neck, soft lips. “We need to be faithful right now. Are you faithful?”

“I have faith in the universe and am ready to receive its divine light.” Chan forced his cock into Jisungs ass. 

“Do you trust?”

“I trust in the universe and am ready to receive its divine light.” Chan grabbed Jisungs hair and pulled it,

“Do you love?”

“I love the universe and am ready to receive its divine light.” Jisung didn’t cry this time, but he didn’t moan either.

_ Trust: _

That night, Chan’s fingers worked out every knot of muscle in Jisung’s back. He hummed phrases under his breath, lingering passages from their evening meditation, and told Jisung exactly when to breathe. In and out. Jisung watched a fly land on his hand and just stay there. No biting. Little limbs rubbing at its eyeballs.

“You know Changbin’s coming for dinner tomorrow,” Chan spoke in soothing tones. “This is our chance to bring him back into the divine light. We need our faith now more than ever before. I had a vision while I was meditating. I saw a beautiful feast, and around it all of our family members. Tomorrow is an important day.”

Jisung nodded, shifting slightly under Chan’s weight. He forgot what the sheets felt like when they were clean. Chan reached down and flicked the bug off of Jisung’s hand. “Are you feeling alright, Jisung? I’m sensing some agitation in your energy.” Jisung was quiet for a while, but he knew that wouldn’t deter Chan. Chan could wait for hours.

“I’m just worried... What if Changbin doesn’t come back tomorrow?” Jisung mumbled, “What if he stays in darkness?”

“Ahhhh,” Chan massaged down Jisung’s legs, working out some knots in his calves, “Changbin’s on his own spiritual journey. All we can do is show him the light and hope for the best. And the universe listens, Jisung. The divine light can tell a true hope from a false one, so trust fully. Do you trust?”

“I trust the universe and am ready to receive its divine light.” The words trickled out of Jisung so easily now, like they weren’t even real words. Chan compressed the middle of Jisung’s back, pushing the air out of him and cracking the tension out of his spine.

“There you go...” Chan kissed the back of Jisung’s neck, “You are so, so radiant Jisung. I can feel the divine light in you. The universe loves you so much.”

_ Love: _

Jisung loved the house. It was one of the first things that brought him here, when Chan had already amassed a small community of believers and Jisung was still used to weeks at a shitty retail job. Coming from the city, it seemed massive. Set back from the road a little, sprawling trees and hedges made it feel like a little paradise between the other homes in the area. It was old too, Jisung remembers the brother who took him on his first tour of the house explaining how it was “full of good spirits.” Jisung didn’t really believe any of it at first, but then he heard Chan speak, and everything changed.

The first smudge of ash across the bridge of his nose. The earth, the divine light shining through all things. Even the remnants of what had already burnt was suddenly teeming with spiritual energy, and Chan’s thumb was so warm applying them to his face.

The first rabbit sacrificed, its blood smeared down the back of his neck. The death of the body is not the death of the spirit. The divine light carries through us all. The divine light can sustain you infinitely, or it can cut you down. Jisung felt ashamed and instructed. He was in awe.

Suddenly there was sense to the universe. Everything had a meaning, and for everyone a mission, and Jisung’s mission felt so special. So much more important than the bodily pain it caused him. It was only the universe’s test, the limits of a spirit grown too large for the physical body which contained it.

Jisung felt comforted by all of it. All of the teachings in this big beautiful house, reverberating off of its walls, seeping out through cracks in the floorboards. Jisung didn’t mind the bugs. He was used to them. And the black mold on the bathroom tiles, peeling wallpaper in the bunks.

“The house centipedes are good actually,” Chan had explained one night, shooing the many-legged insect off of Jisung’s thigh, “They kill off all the bugs you really don't want in the house.”

Jisung didn’t know why one bug was better than any other, but he didn’t like killing bugs anyway, so he left the centipedes alone. He watched one now, skittering through Chan’s discarded hair as he cut the dead ends away and let them fall to the floor. Golden threads. The centipede luxuriated in them.

_ Gold: _

Jisung cleaned, Chan cooked, and when Changbin knocked on their door, they were ready.

“Changbinn!” Chan called, throwing the door open with a smile stretching across his face and his arms thrown wide. “I’m so glad you made it,” He pulled Changbin into a hug, squeezing him tight, “The universe told me you’d be coming.”

Changbin looked the same as he always had. He wasn’t wearing white anymore, back to some casual blue jeans and a black tshirt like he had worn when he and Jisung were both still sleeping in the bunks. He had gotten a little more muscular, but Changbin was always getting more muscular. Chan said that strengthening his physical body was something profound for Changbin. He was a nurturer, and that role demanded corporeal strength. When Chan let go of Changbin, he and Jisung’s eyes finally met. There was something sad in them.

“Hey Jisung,” Changbin called, and Jisung smiled and nodded,

“Namaste.”

Soon, Chan was ushering him through the door, telling him how good he looked, “It’s been such a long time, Changbin. You look healthy. I’m glad to see your time out in the world has served you well.” Chan led Changbin through the living room, once a bustling workshop for all the people who made crafts for their shop, now a lot of empty sitting room, “You know, the divine bodies told me you’d be returning today. I guess your life path has brought you back into their light.”

“I just wanted to stop by,” Changbin muttered, only for Chan’s arm to snake around his shoulders,

“Well, you’ll stay for dinner won’t you?”

_ Dinner: _

Chan cooked more than he and Jisung had eaten in weeks. Vegetables piled up all over the table on colorful platters, and a loaf of bread almost too large and golden to be real. Chan laughed and made some comment about it, reminiscing about a time Changbin had shown him how to make bread and he failed hopelessly. “I’ve learned, I’ve learned, but I’m no Changbin!”

“Definitely not,” Jisung chimed in, laughing, and Changbin cracked an almost-smile. It was a step in the right direction.

Changbin wouldn’t link hands to pray over the meal with them, so Chan and Jisung grabbed his wrists instead. Jisung was surprised by how soft and warm Changbin’s wrist felt under his grasp. 

“We prostrate ourselves before you, the divine bodies of light and sound, the love which binds our universe together, in thankfulness for this bounty of food. We will feed our energy with your gifts and devote ourselves to spiritual enlightenment. I am faithful, trusting, and in love with the power of the divine light.”

Jisung watched Changbin as he recited his prayers. His old brother was so lost now, his inner light utterly extinguished. He glanced around with this sad look in his eyes, flinching on a few words in their prayer. Jisung wondered how someone who had once been so radiant could become so unenlightened.

_ Unenlightened: _

When Jisung first opened his eyes to the divine light, Changbin was already a family member. He wasn’t wearing white yet, but he was passionately involved. The two would stay up later than their brothers, huddled up on Changbin’s bunk after evening meditations, discussing the teachings of the day. “He’s just genius,” Changbin would always murmur, stars in his eyes, “I can’t believe there was all this love in the universe and my eyes just weren’t open to it yet, you know?”

“Totally.” Jisung would smile and listen when Changbin rattled on like this, carrying on talking even when the conversation drifted to the darker moments of his past. A dead dad, a brother in rehab. Changbin had been through so much, but still he was so radiant.

Most nights, they would end up sleeping together. This was not unusual. The bunks were always full of people moaning softly and climbing into bed with each other. It was a house full of love, radiance passing from body to body, and Changbin and Jisung loved each other. Jisung loved Changbin’s light and his steadiness. He loved how Changbin looked hovering over him, when gravity would pull his cheeks forward slightly and his face would get all squishy.

“I love you,” Changbin would murmur, his soft body settling in on top of Jisung, gripping him tightly and hiding his face in his neck. Jisung’s mouth would drop open, the tiniest moans trickling out as Changbin’s weight crushed the breath from his lungs. 

When Jisung came, his back arched and hips bucked up against Changbin’s stomach. His eyes closed, and on the back of his eyelids he could see the universe. It seemed to sparkle just for him.

As Jisung and Changbin continued on their path to enlightenment, Jisung discovered his mission. Chan started pulling him aside for private meditation and worship. He ran his hands over every inch of Jisung’s body, drove him to the height of divine pleasure, then whispered his knowledge with lips pressed to Jisung’s ear. He let Jisung see the universe laid out before him like he was letting the younger in on a secret. He told Jisung he had a dream about him, a vision, and then Jisung was Special.

Something shifted in Changbin, like he never fully believed that Jisung could be this embodiment of the divine. Jisung wondered if Changbin was jealous of his mission. Chan reassured him again and again: “Changbin is on his own spiritual journey. He’s full of light, but his purpose isn’t the same as yours. The world just wouldn’t work if everyone played the same role.”

Changbin wouldn’t even participate when Jisung took part in his rites. He would watch Chan, then Seungmin, then a long line of men come up to the front of the room to feed Jisung’s spirit. Gagging him, smearing the blood on the back of his neck. Jisung didn’t understand. Changbin used to feed him so well. He used to be so full of universal love.

Changbin was the second to leave after Minho.

_ After: _

“Aren’t you ashamed?” Changbin asked the question after a long period of pleasant conversation. The sun was setting now, and the serving plates piled high with roasted vegetables and fresh rabbit were dwindling to the final scraps. They’d all had some wine, and Jisung though Chan’s rosy cheeks looked sweet in contrast to his newly trimmed and bleached hair.

“What do you mean?” Chan wiped his mouth. His knife made a soft click as he set it down on the table.

“I mean what I said. Aren’t you ashamed of what you’ve done to people?” Changbin wouldn’t take his eyes off of Chan. His tone of voice made Jisung’s whole body tense up. Changbin used to have so much light.

“Of course I am.” Chan smiled gently, “Isn’t there anything you’ve been ashamed of? Your whole life, highschool, everyone makes their mistakes. That’s part of the journey life takes us on.”

“Well yeah, there are things I’ve done wrong, but I don't claim to be some kind of God. I mean. People are, like, fucking traumatized because of this place. Because of what you did to them.”

Under the table, Chan stomped on a cockroach which must have run out from the kitchen. He tried to hide it, but Jisung could hear its body crunch. “I’ve never claimed to be a God. If the universe wanted a God, they would have put one here, but instead it’s chosen to speak through me. A human. Fallible, imperfect. Weak. I will admit, I’ve delivered their message poorly at times. I know I’ve hurt people, and I meditate on their spirits every single day. What else can I do? What’s done is done.”

Changbin looked at Jisungs, and his gaze was dark and sad and confusing. Jisung fiddled with the edge of the table cloth. “He still fucks you, doesn’t he?” Changbin asked, not turning his gaze away even when Jisung clenched Chan’s hand and stared at his empty plate.

“Please don't say it like that,” Jisung mumbled.

“Oh, sorry brother, how do you want me to say it? Does he ‘feed’ you? Is he sharing his ‘divine light’? It’s all the same damn thing.”

“Come on, now, Changbin,” Chan spoke up, running his hand over the outside of Jisung’s thumb, “Let’s not get caught up on semantics. You know sexual contact is the easiest way for humans to exchange energy. This is one of the first tenants of the divine path. The universe is love, you learned this when you first became a brother so many years ago. Besides, it’s not like you haven’t exchanged energy with Jisung yourself, remember?” 

Jisung stood up. He did it without thinking. He couldn’t be here right now. He had to be faithful. He had to trust the universe. He was the embodiment of the divine forces, he was so, so important. He needed it. Jisung started collecting the plates from the table, taking them into the kitchen and leaving the conversation behind. 

There were so many bugs here. So many bugs, and they all killed each other.

“You alright?” Chan murmured, coming in from the dining room several minutes later. His hand was warm, sliding down Jisung’s spine as the younger scrubbed furiously at the dishes. Jisung nodded silently. “I’m sorry things got so intense in there.” Chan’s arms wrapped around Jisung’s waist and he leaned in to kiss the back of his neck.

Jisung tensed unconsciously. “Where’s Changbin?”

“He’s in the bathroom.” Chan’s breath traced down the back of Jisung’s neck, splitting him, “He said he wants to stay for meditation. I think he wants to spend more time with you.” Jisung nodded, and Chan ran one hand up under his shirt, caressing his soft stomach. “I know it’s hard, Jisung. You’re being so strong. I really think we can bring him back into the light. Are you faithful?”

“I have faith in the universe and am ready to receive its divine light.”

_ Meditation: _

This room used to be packed full of people. The sun caught in the windows as it set, and bodies wall-to-wall inside. Meditation was something a little different every night. Some nights, they’d sit in silence for hours, until their knees ached and bodies went numb from the waist down. Or they’d duck down on their hands and knees and chant again and again. “I have faith in the universe. I trust the universe. I love the universe.” Chan would weave between them, telling stories of the masters before him or regaling them all with his latest visions, and they would chant again. “I am ready to receive its divine light. I am ready to receive its divine light. I am ready to receive its divine light.” Again and again, backs aching.

Sometimes, they worshipped naked. This was common on nights where Jisung would perform his monthly rites and feedings, or after a new wave of family members entered their community. They would languish in each other, bodies so plentiful their skin became one living, breathing, mass. Chan’s voice echoing above the crowd: “What is sex? Why do we fear it? When the divine bodies first spoke to me, I was frightened too. Hell, I used to be a Baptist! But with time, my eyes were opened. What are we, but a soul within a body? These divine forces have surpassed the need for physical bodies themselves, and passed on to us this unique gift: the body. What a beautiful thing that is. And yet, we have been blinded by society, driven into darkness. Why do we fear pleasure? Look at the brothers around you and tell them “I love you.” Go on, say it! It’s not a bad thing. The universe, as we all know, is made up of love. It positively shines with it. Turn to the man next to you, and love him.” 

The first time he took part in any meditation, Jisung was terrified. He was so afraid of doing something wrong he broke out in sweat and tremors from head to toe. But this ceremony was always special. Changbin’s soft arms wrapped around him and stopped his shaking. Minho’s sharp eyes gazed into his own, and Jisung unfurled like a blossom. Jisung sweated on the floor, surrounded by skin, and felt himself suspended on nerves through the universe. This was how Chan knew he was special, how everyone came to know Jisung’s body as something divine.

Tonight, the divine powers had decided on laughter meditation. Chan led the two of them into the empty room they used for these meditations, where the floor was stained with old blood and ash. The three sat on the floor, cross-legged, in a circle. They joined hands, and Chan spoke: “Divine powers, I come to you this evening in celebration of our brother Changbin, who has come back under your light. I ask for your radiance to pass through him, to fill his soul with your light and power. Show him strength, and the beauty of the universe. I call upon you humbly, and I ask that we all trust you.”

“I trust the universe and am ready to receive its divine light,” Jisung mumbled, and his back straightened.

“We are open to the full strength of your light, and thankful for every mission you’ve given us. In following your glorious path to enlightenment, we must remain strong in our faith.”

“I have faith in the universe and am ready to receive its divine light,” Jisung whispered, and his head floated atop his spine, mind buzzing.

“Yes, strong in our faith, and open to the variety in paths you may show to us. You have put us here for a reason, all of us, divine ones, and it is our duty to uncover this reason. It is our duty to bear your divine life with grace, and to open our hearts to the infinite love of the universe. We forgive, and we share, and we Love.”

“I love the universe and am ready to receive its divine light,” Jisung sighed, and the nerves on his hands awakened, sensing the warmth and texture of Chan and Changbin’s hands.

“Yes, we love!”

“I love the universe and am ready to receive its divine light,” Jisung moaned. His body pitched forwards a little, bobbing and swaying.

“We love, because we are alive. Because our souls are awakened to your divine glory and to the light within each other! We love, we love, we love!” Chan repeated this refrain, rocking back and forth slightly, and as he spoke, he broke into giggles. Just slightly at first, his hands clenching on Jisung and Changbin’s as the word “love” fractured into two syllables. Then louder: “We Love! We LOVE! WE LOVE!” Chan cackled wildly, and Jisung joined him. All the energy within him bubbled up into laughter. He giggled and snorted. Chan looked at him and he looked back with tears in his eyes, and then they both laughed at how much the other one was laughing.

Changbin was silent at first, just looking between Chan and Jisung with that same sad expression. When the two started laughing, he rolled his eyes. Jisung pitched forward, letting out an ugly snort, and the side of Changbin’s mouth quirked up in a little smile. “We love!” Chan croaked, then lifted his arms up, bringing Jisung and Changbin’s arms with his motion, “We LOVE! Woo!” And Changbin started laughing.

Changbin started laughing, and snorting, and cackling just like the other two did. His face turned red, tears jabbed at the corners of his eyes. Jisung thought he looked beautiful. His little nasal giggle, the music of divinity, so Jisung laughed harder, and so did the other two. They laughed and laughed and laughed. They released each other’s hands and flopped over onto the floor, rolling onto their backs and kicking their legs in the air in spiritual ecstasy. Jisung rolled onto his side, his stomach burning, and watched the other two laugh. He loved them so much, and just when their laughter had begun to die down, Chan started it up again:

“We Love! We Love!” In a voice which was higher and more wavering than his own, and Jisung imitated him,

“We Love!” like an old croon. Changbin laughed at both of them, clutching his stomach, so Chan and Jisung laughed right back. They clutched their stomachs just like Changbin did. They shrieked, they howled, they wailed. They laughed until they couldn’t tell the difference between laughing and crying anymore, and then they kept laughing. It burned, it ached. Jisung’s hands scratched at the floor like claws and he laughed and laughed and laughed. His vision went black and he laughed. They laughed and laughed until they swore the floor was shaking with their laughter, until it felt like the whole house would come down.

And when they stopped laughing, dissolving into little ripples of lingering giggles, Changbin grabbed Jisung’s ears and pulled him into a kiss. His mouth was hot and bright, and Jisung pulled him impossibly close. Jisung laughed into the kiss, and let Changbin push him onto his back, let his legs spread open like blossoming petals, all with Chan’s giggles carrying on underneath him.

“I love you, Jisung,” Changbin murmured against Jisung’s lips, pinning him to the ground.

Jisung smiled, “I love you too.” He pulled Changbin’s head down to his and murmured in his ear, “You’re so radiant.”

_ Radiant: _

Changbin stayed for rites. He knelt next to Jisung, naked, his chin resting in Chan’s palm.

“The skeptic’s black brow,” Chan smeared Changbin’s forehead with ash, “Clouding his vision of the path towards enlightenment.”

“And the high planes of the divine.” Jisung smiled when Chan’s thumb ran across the bridge of his nose, “We ask that you might enter the body of this young soul. That you may fill him with your light, and make him as an image to yourself and your eternal love.”

The rabbit squeaked when Chan sacrificed it. He drew his knife across its neck, and let blood pool in his cupped palm. “We sacrifice one soul for another, in acknowledgement of your divine power, and anoint ourselves with this reminder. That you may give and take away. That everything which loves is also vulnerable.” Chan coated the back of Jisung’s neck with blood. Warm and sticky. Jisung felt the heat of the divine on the back of his neck, like some universal eye shining down on him.

“We ask that you may teach this fallen brother the true path to your light.” Chan’s bloodsoaked thumb dotted under Changbin’s eyes and swiped along each side of his face, hollowing out his soft cheeks. “We ask that you might show forgiveness to him, and accept him back into your light with forgiveness and love. We love.”

“I love the universe and am ready to receive its divine light,” Jisung and Changbin chanted in unison. Changbin looked paralyzed.

“We trust.”

“I trust the universe and am ready to receive its divine light.” Chan walked behind Jisung and pulled the younger’s white shirt off over his head, a few dried flowers shaking out of his hair on the way.

“We have faith.”

“I have faith in the universe and am ready to receive its divine light.” Chan pulled off Changbin’s t-shirt too, his hands wandering down over Changbin’s bare torso and squeezing at his chest. Changbin shuddered.

“Turn to face each other, and share your universal light. Escort this skeptic back on his path to enlightenment,” Chan commanded. He massaged Jisung’s shoulder, and gently pushed him towards Changbin.

Changbin looked uncomfortable, frozen, so Jisung crawled towards him. Jisung’s slender arms wrapped around Changbin’s torso. He traced his nails up Changbin’s back and kissed his neck. Again and again. “We missed you Changbin.” He squeezed the little bulge of fat at Changbin’s waist and pulled him closer, grinding their hips together.

Changbin leaned down so he could kiss Jisung back. Somewhere along the way, his hands brushed the blood behind Jisung’s neck and everything in him froze, but Jisung kept kissing, murmuring reassurances into Changbin’s ear and gently settling onto his back, pulling Changbin on top of him.

Jisung spread his legs and let his spine flatten against the wooden floor. Changbin looked like a demon, hunching over him in the dim light, his face darkened with ash and blood. His darkness yawned open with each kiss, and Jisung shined into it. Jisung would fill him with light. Jisung ran his hands back, pushed them under the waistband of Changbin’s pants and squeezed his ass, grinding up against him. Moaning soft and warm.

Changbin kept meeting Jisung’s eyes and glancing away, his energy coming back to him in waves. He’d pull Jisung’s pants down and force his legs up to his chest, pushing so hard it made Jisung’s tendons ache, but then they’d make eye contact again, and something sad would take over him. Jisung had to keep pulling him back, kissing him, burying Changbin’s face in his shoulder and guiding him inside.

Changbin built up a rhythm slowly. Jisung’s arms tightened around him, and Changbin went harder. Faster. He let out a nasal whine against Jisung’s neck. He bit down on Jisung’s skin and Jisung threw his head back in divine ecstasy. 

Chan’s fingers wound into Changbin’s hair, and he pulled the brother into a kiss. Chan kissed Changbin deeply, then sucked bruises into the side of Changbin’s neck, his body straddling Jisung’s face. 

“We love you so much, Changbin,” Chan whispered, and Changbin’s hands tightened on Jisung’s body, bruising him. “We’re so happy you’re home.” Changbin’s hands slid up his torso and closed around Jisung’s throat. His grip got stronger and stronger, until Jisung’s vision burst with random colors. Chan came over Jisung’s face as Changbin fucked him harder and harder. On the ceiling, a house centipede devoured two flies.

_ Devour: _

“You did so well, Jisung. I could feel your radiance shooting off into the universe. You were perfect.”

Chan pulled Jisung into the bathroom after meditation. While Changbin showered downstairs, Chan promised Jisung a bath. Chan said he would wash him reverently, to honor the power he had channeled and cleanse him of Changbin’s darkness. But now Jisung was bent over the bathroom sink, Chan’s hand over his mouth and Chan’s dick buried in his ass.

“So fucking perfect,” Chan groaned again, watching Jisung’s eyelids flutter somewhere between ecstasy and terror. A black fly buzzed in from an air vent or the window and landed on Jisung’s shoulder. He could see it in the mirror, perched delicately, cleaning its big red eyes.

“Fucking bugs,” Chan grunted, smacking his hand down on Jisung’s shoulder. A yelp launched itself out of Jisung’s mouth, then an apology. Chan laughed softly and squished the fly’s body down to a brownish streak, one fine leg still twitching. “Gross.”

Jisung felt gross. In the mirror, he watched Chan disappear into the back of his neck and come back up, face smeared with rabbit’s blood.

_ Blood: _

Changbin agreed to spend the night. Just one, before he went back into the world, and he spent the night in the bunks. The door creaked when Jisung opened it, cockroaches scuttling under the beds, which Jisung immediately apologized for. “Don't worry,” Jisung assured him, “The beds are clean.”

There were two bunk beds on either side of the room, crammed so tightly together it was a wonder they hadn’t been cut exactly to the dimensions of the space. Changbin’s old bunk was on the bottom, hidden away in the back right corner, and Changbin could have really slept anywhere, but he still settled in the familiar spot. “We can get you some clothes,” Jisung offered, but Changbin shut him down immediately. 

“I can’t wear white again,” Changbin smiled dryly. “I’ll be alright.”

There was a moment of silence. Jisung’s body ached from the meditation and his bath with Chan. Changbin looked at him, no expression in particular, and Jisung looked back. Slowly, Jisung shuffled across the floor and sat on the bed with Changbin. He pulled his knees up to his chest and held onto his toes, watching cockroaches carry little crumbs into cracks in the wall.

“Where’s Chan?” Changbin asked, voice soft, and Jisung shrugged.

“In bed. Meditation tires him out.” Jisung’s whole body was sore. He didn’t flinch when Changbin moved a little closer, studying his face.

“So, you really like staying here then?” When Jisung narrowed his eyes, the scuttling legs disappeared off cockroaches under the opposing bed. They became soft brown ovals, dancing and shuffling around. Jisung chewed on one of his nails.

“I love it here. I love the divine light.” Changbin just nodded. He wrapped his arms around Jisung and held the smaller man to his chest, smoothing down his hair with one hand. Changbin’s chest was warm and soft. Jisung rubbed his cheek on it slightly, just getting comfortable, his body nestling into Changbin’s so easily. “Hey Changbin,” he murmured, “Do you know what happened to the other brothers? Do you think they’ll come back into the light?”

“No, I don't think so.” Changbin’s fingers combed through Jisung’s damp hair, “Hyunjin and Felix are in this exit counseling group with me now. The three of us, and some kid who used to be a Scientologist. They’re not coming back. I think they were really unhappy here.”

“Oh.” Jisung’s breathing was slow, a wet itch at the back of his throat.

“That’s why I wanted to come back, partially. I....always just thought you were special, I guess. I needed to tell you there is support out there. If you want to stay, then, well, alright. As long as you’re safe, I’m not going to force you to go. I just needed you to know that people are out there on the other side of this thing. Always. No one would be mad at you, Jisung.”

Jisung nodded. He swallowed a fingernail, “What about Minho? Is he okay?”

“No.” Changbin parted Jisung’s hair clean down the middle, then redid it a thousand different ways, “Minho comes to meetings sometimes. He’s not okay. What Chan and Seungmin did to him was awful, even beyond what you or I ever knew about. He talks about coming back here all the time, burning the whole house down. I don't think Minho will ever be okay.”

“The divine light will protect him,” Jisung murmured, “He’s family.”

“I certainly hope it will.” Changbin sighed. Across the room, some wallpaper slipped further down the wall, so slow they almost missed it. “You sure you’re okay here, Jisung? Chan doesn’t hurt you?”

“I’ll be alright. I’m faithful.” Jisung nuzzled into Changbin’s chest, as if Changbin’s warm flesh would unfold and take him in. Like a baby. “If the divine light wanted me on another path, it would give me a sign.” Changbin squeezed him tight,

“Everything can be a sign, Jisung. Maybe I’m one. I just hope you don't miss the signs telling you that this is a bad place.”

After that, the two men were silent. Brothers. Blood. They curled into each other until they drifted off to sleep, the stale smell of cockroaches and summer air through the window.

When Jisung awoke in the middle of the night, he returned to Chan’s bed, and sure enough the elder was there waiting for him. His blonde mane fanned out on the pillow around him. Chan smiled and pulled Jisung close, ignoring his apologies. He pinned Jisung down with all his limbs and maneuvered him. “I just couldn’t sleep well without you,” Chan murmured, draping the silky sheets over Jisung and grinding comfortably against his ass. “You smell like Changbin.”

_ Fire: _

Jisung had dreamed this night before.

It was humid, oddly cool for the summertime. Chan pulled him from his bed half-sleeping and tied a blindfold over his eyes. Something about Seungmin. “Come on, Jisung, Seungmin needs you to feed him.” The wooden staircase creaked and the bottom of his feet stuck to every step.

The air outside felt cold on his skin. He was only in his underwear, and his ankles brushed fireflies in the grass. Chan was drunk. Jisung could feel it in the way he stumbled. Seungmin was probably drunk too.

It was a brisk walk across the lawn before Jisung heard Seungmin’s voice calling out to him. Seungmin was definitely drunk. Jisung heard a crackling fire, and Chan stopped him.

“Drink,” Chan ordered, raising a cup of wine to Jisung’s lips and forcing him to knock it back. 

Chan slid Jisung’s underwear off, kissed his neck and helped him down. His knees sunk into the damp ground, and his hands groped blindly for a second before Chan guided them onto a pair of thighs. The body before Jisung shuddered under his grasp.

“Mmm fuck, Jisung. I need you inside of me so bad. I need your divine light,” Seungmin’s voice was nasal. Jisung’s hands stumbled up the person’s thighs. It wasn’t Seungmin. Jisung turned his head around, searching, but he was blind, and Chan’s lips suffocated him in a kiss.

“He’s all ready for you,” Chan murmured, his fist stroking Jisung’s cock, “I’ve been playing with him all night.” Chan guided Jisung’s hips forward, directed his cock against the ass of whoever was bent over in front of him, and pushed him. Jisung wanted to be good. His knees were sinking into the grass, crawling things bumping up against his skin.

When Chan forced Jisung’s head inside, the body beneath him shuddered violently and let out a strangled scream. Muffled. “Oh, GOD,” Seungmin moaned theatrically over the noises, “Please Jisung, More! It feels sooo good.” 

“What’s going on?” Jisung murmured, voice slurred with sleep and drunkenness. Chan’s body pressed close against him.

“You hear him, Jisung. Seungmin needs you bad. He needs salvation.” Half of his own accord, half driven by Chan’s hips against his, Jisung pushed in a little deeper. The body writhed. Something brushed Jisung’s thigh and he gasped but he couldn’t jump back. Chan had him boxed in. He hyperventilated. Another push, and there was that muffled cry again, louder now, breath hitching and the sound of fists beating on the ground.

“Watch out!” Chan’s warning was loud but not convincing. The body pitched forward, as if pulled, then recoiled. Jisung felt the heat of the fire, and smelled burning hair and skin. Muffled screaming. It wouldn’t stop. 

“Seungmin,” Chan sounded almost mocking, “Why’d you put your hand in the fire like that?”

“I don't know! I must really love it. You know I love being a pain in the ass.” Chan’s hips kept knocking into Jisung’s, forcing him deeper into the body that was crying and twitching and hyperventilating around him, forcing him into a rhythm. There was a sound of an impact, like someone being hit, and Jisung didn’t know where it was coming from. He couldn’t pull apart the sounds of muffled sobbing underneath Seungmin’s constant high-pitched moans.

“Chan,” Jisung murmured, twisting, but Chan didn’t stop. “I’m scared.” Chan grabbed Jisung’s hips with two hands and pushed him in deep, until he bottomed out. Jisung’s hands were clawing blindly at the air, searching for Chan, searching for something that made sense. “What’s going on?” Chan kissed down the side of Jisung’s neck, and Seungmin’s moans were cut with snorts and quiet laughter. “Chan, who is that?” Jisung asked, only for Chan’s hand to close over his mouth.

“That’s enough questions now Sungie.”

Jisung didn’t remember how he got back to the bedroom. He didn’t remember orgasming, he didn’t remember walking, he didn’t remember passing out. Just the warmth of Chan’s palm over his face, and then he was back in bed. He hated waking up in this dream, he hated that he knew where this would go.

“Bad dream?” Chan would ask, silhouetted in the window’s golden morning light. And Jisung would look at him, look for some explanation, but Chan was radiant. He smelled like a fresh shower, clean and dry and well-rested, and Jisung was so confused.

“Yeah,” Jisung would murmur, “Bad dream.” So Chan would pull him closer.

Chan’s kisses were sweet, and his embrace was so warm in the morning. 

_ Morning: _

By that morning, Changbin was on his way out. He wouldn’t stay to eat, wouldn’t stay for meditation, just gave them each a polite hug and waved goodbye. “Don't forget,” he whispered when he and Jisung were hugging one last time, “There are people waiting for you out there.” 

Changbin pressed a small paper card into the palm of Jisung’s hand, his phone number and the name of his exit counseling group scrawled across the back, and then he was gone. Jisung set to work in the garden.

It was a lovely day out there today. The sun was bright and hot. Not a cloud in the sky, and Jisung scuttled dutifully among the tomato plants. The blossoms were all beginning to open, and Jisung counted them, imagining the pure joy of a fresh tomato in late August, when they finished ripening. Jisung visualized the juice dripping down his chin and paused momentarily just to sit there, holding onto his bare feet while the dirt undoubtedly stained his white pants. Jisung could practically taste it.

When Jisung opened his eyes, he was face-to-face with a ladybug, lumbering gently along the edge of a leaf. Jisung watched the big white splotches where he liked to imagine eyes, and rose up on his knees to count the spots along its back. 6. Jisung hoped it was a lucky number. Maybe this was a good omen. He’d have to ask Chan. Jisung continued his crawl, picking away dead leaves and gently doling out jarred rainwater. 

“Having fun?” Chan called, striding across the lawn. He looked like the sun again, especially when he smiled. Radiant. Jisung nodded.

“They’re starting to blossom. I think we’ll have a good harvest this year.” Chan’s fingers ruffled through Jisung’s hair, and the younger smiled. “I saw a ladybug, do you think it’s a good omen.” 

Chan laughed a little, “That’s funny, I saw ladybugs in my dreams last night. It must have been a message.” Chan’s finger’s toyed with Jisung’s hair, poorly braiding it, “Ladybugs are a symbol of change, and good fortune. They eat aphids, so they’re a sign of a good harvest too.”

It was a quiet morning, so Jisung could hear the first car pulling up. Chan picked through his hair, like he was looking for life, and mumbled about his dreams, “They told me Changbin will be back again. Things are turning around.”

Jisung could hear the car door slamming, footsteps on the lawn. He glanced up at Chan, who had stopped talking and turned his face towards the front of the house, where the footsteps were coming from. 

Jisung never heard a gunshot before. He flinched when it happened, his whole body curling up on his hands and knees. He missed the moment of impact. His eyes only opened when Chan’s body hit the ground, crushing tomato blossoms.

Time stretched. Jisung sucked up Chan’s image, the red gushing out of his chest, the spray dirtying his white clothes. It was like he couldn’t blink. He watched himself reach out, his hands pressing against Chan’s chest, blood covering his skin. Jisung opened his mouth but nothing came out, he just kept grabbing, shaking Chan, clawing at his chest to find the bullet. The divine light. Chan would be okay. Good fortune. The light would protect him. Jisung must have been screaming, he heard himself, his own voice saying Chan’s name again and again, but Chan wasn’t breathing anymore. Chan couldn’t hear him.

Jisung watched his own hands come into view, palms up and covered in Chan’s blood. He wanted to be crying. His knees were shaking, but he forced himself onto his feet, rising up above the tomato plants, where he could see him.

Minho wasn’t wearing white. He was wearing sweatpants and a t-shirt that looked too big for his body. His eyes were dark, and his left arm hung loosely at his side, burned horribly from the tip of his fingers all the way up to his elbow. Minho stared at Jisung, then pointed the gun at him, hand shaking.

Jisung screamed. He ran at Minho, feet pounding the grass. He didn’t know he was doing, but every cell in his body screamed for him to keep running, to attack. Minho just watched him, shaking a little, before turning his arm in at the exact moment Jisung came close. Minho pressed the gun to his own temple, and the sound was so loud. Minho’s body jolted, then crumbled to the ground.

Jisung’s throat hurt. All his muscles strained. He must have been screaming louder now, but all he could hear was the ringing in his ears. His vision blurred, and his legs slipped out from underneath him. Just as things went dark, he felt soft arms wrap around his own and drag him back across the lawn. Away from the house.

_ Awake: _

It wasn’t the first time Jisung had woken up. There was sunlight coming in through the window, city sounds humming away. He didn’t know how long he had been sleeping. The door creaked softly when it opened, but Jisung didn’t move to look at it.

“You awake?” Changbin had a soft voice. A kind one. He set a plate down on the table next to Jisung’s bed. Toast and a little cup of berries. Jisung straightened up slowly and reached for it, sliding a corner of toast into his mouth without thinking. He hadn’t known he was hungry, but it settled the ache in his stomach.

“Where’s Chan?” Jisung murmured after swallowing. Changbin was quiet for too long. He passed Jisung a glass of water, which Jisung drank carefully.

“Chan is dead,” Changbin responded eventually. Jisung set the water back down and pulled the sheets up over his chin.

“Chan can’t die. He has the divine light. He. It protects him.” 

Changbin just nodded, “Well, the light’s plan must have changed. Chan is dead. Minho killed him.”

“...Minho was family.” Changbin’s hand smoothed over Jisung’s hair gently. Changbin was so soft.

“Just breathe, Jisung. You need to eat something. Not everything’s going to make sense right now.” Jisung nodded. He ate for a while in silence, and Changbin stayed the whole time. 

Changbin’s hair was darker. He must have dyed it. Jisung wondered how long it had been since he’d seen his brother. After a while, Jisung murmured, “Did you know he was going to do that?” Changbin took Jisung’s empty plate and set it down on the table. 

“No. I tried to get back to the house when I saw his car, but I was too late... I’m sorry Jisung, I know you loved him.”

Jisung shook a little and curled up on his side like a dead bug. He watched the dust in the air. 

“Will you hold me?” Jisung’s voice was practically a whisper now. Changbin nodded and joined Jisung on the bed. He let Jisung get comfortable on his chest, breathing slow and smooth with one soft arm draped over Jisung’s back.

Jisung listened to his brother’s heartbeat and cried silently, until his whole body was sore with it. Eventually, he drifted back to sleep.

There were no bugs here, and Jisung had no dreams.

**Author's Note:**

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